Fine Lines
by Daphnean
Summary: Hermione knows there is a fine line between love and hate. As she enters her fourth year, she discovers that there are hundreds of fine lines bordering her relationships, the most fragile of which exist between the people she loves the most.
1. Chapter 1

Ginny wouldn't stop staring at Cedric. He stood a little bit away from them, talking with Mr Weasley, Mr Diggory and Harry. Irritation was beginning to scratch at Hermione's nerves.  
'Do you think he'll be near us?' Ginny asked, giving Cedric a calculating look.  
'Oh…well, I don't really know.' said Hermione.  
Their conversation had been more than a little stilted since they had joined the Diggory's. It was reduced to nothing more than the odd question from Ginny regarding the handsome boy, to which Hermione replied that she didn't know. It was really quite frustrating. She and Ginny had at first whispered to each other, sharing what little they knew about him while shooting Cedric's back furtive glances. As it turned out, they knew nothing about him except that he was a sixth year Hufflepuff, seeker on the quidditch team and that he was exceptionally handsome. After a few appreciative comments from both of them on his appearance Hermione had tried to divert the conversation, knowing that as gorgeous as Cedric was the topic would quickly grow boring considering how little they knew about him. Unfortunately, Ginny was still peppering Hermione with questions which they had ascertained that she knew nothing about.  
'Is he-'  
'Look, Ginny,' Hermione began, cutting her off. 'I don't know the answer to whatever you were about to ask. He's hot, sure…but…is he really worth obsessing over this much?'  
'I suppose not.' Ginny sighed. 'I'm just trying to do what you suggested so that I can get over Harry a bit. You know, relax a bit, try and date a few other boys.'  
Hermione smiled. 'Yes, but you can't just forget Harry by _forcing _yourself to show interest in other boys. In fact, I'd say that's only going to make you think about Harry more – you'll be constantly comparing. I think you have to actually _like_ a boy to date them.' She teased.  
'Yeah, you're right. It shouldn't really be a surprise that you're right though, should it? Cedric is really hot and everything, but… I don't know. He's not Harry.'  
'Exactly. Besides, maybe you should set your sights on boys in our year levels, not sixth year. I doubt he'd go out with a third year, even though he seems really nice… he'd probably just pass you over as being too young before he even got to know you. Not that you _are _too young or immature, or anything like that,' she added hastily as Ginny bristled, 'It's just what he'd think. Besides, he doesn't know that you're nearly fourteen.'  
Ginny grinned sheepishly. 'Sorry. Cedric probably _would _think I'm too young. Anyway, listen!' she cried, pointing at Mr Weasley, who was saying something to Harry, 'The portkey's leaving in a minute!'  
'Thank goodness.' groaned Hermione. 'Maybe we can get some sleep when we get there.'  
'Oh, I doubt it,' Ginny said distractedly as they stood up and moved towards the unscrupulous boot. 'You know how Dad is, I bet he'll want us to do everything the muggle way… it'll take ages to set up our site…Dad'll keep getting in the way and slowing us down.'  
Hermione laughed and Ginny flashed her a quick grin as she walked off to stand next to George. Hermione went to join Harry, just in time for Mr. Weasley to look over at them and talk.  
'You just need to touch the portkey, that's all, a finger will do-'  
He moved to get closer to the portkey and Harry and Hermione followed. There was a bit of jostling as they tried to fit around, their bulky backpacks proving a hindrance. Hermione nearly lost her balance as Fred accidentally pushed her; then they stood in complete silence as the wind swept over them. Hermione found the absurdity of their position comical, all clustered around a dank boot in the semi-dark like some sort of strange cult. She saw Harry half-smile too and wondered what he was thinking about.  
Mr Weasley began counting down as he looked at his watch. Hermione gripped the shoelace she had grabbed more tightly, a little nervous. She knew what to expect, of course, having stumbled across portkeys in some book or other but she suspected that like flying, the experience would be somewhat different.  
Just as Mr Weasley reached 'one' in his countdown, Hermione's stomach lurched as an invisible force grabbed her around the navel and flung her into the air. She was thrown around, her shoulders hitting Harry's and Fred's as the wind buffeted them and the kaleidoscope of colours the world around them had taken on was only making her feel more and more sick…then it was over and she was slammed into the ground, causing her to stagger and fall. Groaning, she looked around to see that Ron and Harry had managed to get tangled in the fall and were now a mess of limbs; Fred, George and Ginny were sprawled on the ground as well; and Mr Diggory, Mr Weasley and Cedric had managed to keep standing, though they looked distinctly windswept. Cedric extended a hand to her. She took it gratefully and dusted herself off, blushing as he deftly pulled a twig and a couple of leaves out of her bushy hair. He twirled the slender piece of wood casually in his fingers.  
'Thanks. It always seems to be my hair that ends up with dirt in it…everyone else's looks fine.' said Hermione, feeling a tad disgruntled. Why did _her _hair have to be such a disaster?  
Cedric's smile made him look – if it was possible – even more handsome. 'You're welcome. By the way, you look a bit pale; you might want to sit down: portkeys can give people really bad motion sickness. Some of the people I've seen…it wasn't pretty.'  
Her dignity somewhat recovered after hearing that Cedric had seen much worse than twiggy hair, she raked a hand through her hair to dislodge any other leaves and turned in the direction everyone was walking in.  
'I'm fine, but thanks.' She told him.  
'Hermione, isn't it?' Cedric asked as he lengthened his stride to catch up with her. 'I've heard about you. Some things involving a basilisk, solving an unsolvable riddle to save the philosopher's stone, a werewolf and a troll. Plus some things about your grades. No one in the other houses are too happy with how you keep earning Gryffindor so many house points by answering all the questions in class.'  
Hermione sighed. 'I suppose I haven't really been inconspicuous in my time at Hogwarts, have I? Should have known what I was getting into when I covered for Harry and Ron about the troll.'  
'So there _was _a troll?' Cedric's eyebrows rose. 'I thought it was just a rumour. There's a lot of false information about you three going round the school. Like this one I heard a couple of years ago: You, Harry and Weasley all decided to stop Snape treating Gryffindors so badly, so you overpowered him and threatened him with till he caved in. Never mind the fact that when that rumour started, you were only halfway through your first year and there was no way you could've beaten Snape…'  
'Well, that's completely false, but yes, there was a troll. I didn't know that people spread rumours about us.' said Hermione curiously.  
'Absolutely. You three are what keep the rumour mill at Hogwarts in business. Every other week someone claims that you and Harry are together, then the next someone says that you've ditched him for that 'Weasley kid' and that you two were making out in some corridor.'  
'_What? _People think that Harry and I – that we're _together? _That's absurd!' As she finished her protest, her eyes couldn't help but flick to Ron – she wished there was a cause for the rumours about the two of them. He was annoying sometimes, but he was funny and loyal and his goofiness was endearing.  
Cedric didn't notice that she hadn't included Ron in her indignant response. 'Yes, but after a couple of months a lot of people started ignoring those rumours. They weren't very believable, what with you changing who you believed your true love was every week or so.'  
'I should certainly hope so.' Said Hermione. 'It's nice to hear that some people have faith in me.'  
They walked in silence, which quickly became awkward. Hermione silently cursed herself for not picking up the conversation faster: It only took seven seconds for a silence to become awkward, after which all attempts at conversation looked like desperate and feeble attempts to disturb the awkwardness.  
Cedric saved her. 'Do you play quidditch?' He asked casually; then added as an afterthought: 'What's your team?'  
Hermione was relieved at Cedric's subject choice. Quidditch, the most natural thing to talk about at the Quidditch world cup final. Her relief quickly fizzled out when she realized that her quidditch knowledge was negligible.  
'No…I don't play. I don't really follow any quidditch team either. What about you?' She asked politely.  
'As you probably know because of Harry, I play seeker at school, although I'm really too tall for it. Been hit with bludgers quite a few times, my height means I'm not able to move as quickly. But I'm rubbish at any other position, except for beater, which I'm fair at. Bit ironic, isn't it?' He said, smiling at his own expense.  
Hermione quickly steered to conversation away from quidditch, trying not to reveal how little she cared about it. 'Wasn't it hard being quidditch captain and studying for OWL's at the same time last year? I'm worried that next year I'll have to do all of Harry's homework for him.'  
'At first, yeah, definitely. I kept procrastinating and then trying to finish all my homework at one in the morning on the day it was due or something…I don't think I've ever seen Snape look so happy, I was doing really badly. But Professor Sprout was great, told me that I'd fail if I kept going how I was. Bit harsh, but it was reality. She offered to get a couple of teachers to help me catch up and kept checking up on me to make sure I was fitting everything in.'  
'Somehow, I don't see Harry going to McGonagall. She'd help him of course, but Harry would be too scared.'  
'Harry Potter? Are we talking about the same person? Harry Potter can slay a basilisk with nothing but a sword, but he's scared of what Professor McGonagall might say when he doesn't get his schoolwork done?'  
Hermione giggled. 'Oh, yes! He'd be terrified of what she might do when she realised how badly he was going.'  
Cedric shook his head in amazement and opened his mouth to speak, but Mr Diggory called him over to walk with him.  
'I'll see you around.' He called over his shoulder at her. Hermione nodded and gave him the ghost of a smile and a small wave before hurrying to catch up with Ron, who started talking about the Irish chasers. She listened patiently, but wasn't entirely sure if Moran was actually the keeper or a chaser, despite her best efforts to keep up with the conversation. She resolved to buy a program so that she wouldn't be totally lost during the match.

* * *

Ginny's predictions about Mr Weasley slowing them down turned out to be completely accurate. Even though she and Harry had worked out most of the poles, Mr Weasley insisted on helping. He'd tried to set the tent up on its side at first before she and Harry had finished figuring out where everything belonged. His clumsy enthusiasm with the mallet had been funny but it took him an age to get the peg in, then he tripped over the ropes holding the poles up and they'd had to redo them. Despite all that, they ended up with two fairly respectable looking tents – although she noticed, looking at them dubiously, that they were much too small to fit ten of them. She and Harry exchanged a confused glance.  
Mr Weasley seemed to have no such worries. 'We'll be a bit cramped,' he announced, dropping to his knees and peering into the first tent, 'but I think we'll all fit. Come and have a look.'  
Ginny had spotted Hermione's bemused expression and burst into a fit of giggles. 'Oh, come on! You'll see once we're inside.' said Ginny as she tugged on Hermione's sleeve.  
Hermione raised the flap and stooped a bit as she walked in. As she straightened up, she couldn't help but gasp. 'Of _course! _How do they do it though? I don't think undetectable extension charms work on objects this size…' She trailed off as she realized no one was listening.  
The inside of the tent was like a small apartment, complete with a kitchen, bathroom and bunks. The place had a homely feel and looked as though it could have belonged to an old lady; with crocheted covers and oddly matched furniture. Inhaling the strong smell of cats, Hermione was fervently grateful when Ginny sidled over to her and whispered 'Ours is the other tent…it's a bit smaller than this, but it doesn't smell of cats and we'll have it all to ourselves.'  
Nodding to show that she'd heard, Hermione looked over at Mr Weasley. 'I borrowed this from Perkins at the office,' he was saying, 'doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago.'  
He plucked a dusty kettle from the kitchen bench and examined the inside with a somewhat disappointed look. 'We'll need water…'  
'There's a tap marked on this map the muggle gave us,' said Ron, who looked completely oblivious to the tent's impossible proportions. 'It's on the other side of the field.'  
Hermione went over to check the map as Mr Weasley started talking again. 'Well why don't you, Harry and Hermione go get us some water, then-' He thrust the kettle and a few saucepans at them, '- and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire.'  
'But we've got an oven,' said Ron perplexedly, 'why can't we just -?'  
'Ron, anti-muggle security!' Said Mr Weasley very excitedly. 'When real muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors, I've seen them at it!'  
They quickly checked out the girl's tent, which Hermione noted smelled much better than the boy's, and then they set out across the campsite with the sun hanging low in the sky. Ron glanced at Hermione.  
'Do you really use a fire to cook on when you go camping?'  
Hermione laughed. 'No, we use a stove! Of course, it's not like the stove in the tent – it's much much smaller and you have to hook it up to this thing called a gas bottle. We still cook outside though, in case anything goes wrong and the tent catches fire.'  
Ron scowled and muttered something that Hermione couldn't quite catch. She glanced at him a few more times, wondering what he was thinking about.  
Hermione couldn't help but smile at the tents she saw around her, laughing at the dismal attempts to blend in with muggles. There was one tent with four stories, a balcony and an observatory and another which constantly changed colours. One tent was made out of scales which looked suspiciously like a dragon's and had flaps made out of strange feathers that she couldn't identify. As she looked at it, a pair of wings unfolded from the sides and flapped vigorously. The tent pegs started lifting out of the ground. A harried looking witch tumbled out of the tent to stop it from flying away.  
There were witches and wizards of all different ages and nationalities. She saw Harry watching a young boy zoom across the grass on a toy broomstick. They turned the corner, where Hermione spotted a wizard flying between the tents on a magic carpet as well as a gaggle of young Indian witches, dressed in vibrant robes. Their cooking fire was emitting a smell with a strangely soporific effect and Hermione hurried onwards. She noticed that out of the few people that were trying to light a fire with matchsticks, none of them had anything to prove for their effort except for broken matches.  
'Er – is it just my eyes, or has everything gone green?' said Ron.  
Hermione looked at the surrounding tents, which were all covered in grass and clovers. On closer inspection, they proved to be shamrocks. It looked as if the tents had simply grown out of the ground.  
'Harry! Ron! Hermione!'  
Hermione swivelled around to see Seamus Finnigan, one of the boys in Harry and Ron's dormitory. He was seated outside his own hillock-y tent, with someone who looked like his mother as well as Dean, the other boy in the dormitory.  
'Like the decorations?' said Seamus, grinning as they headed over. 'The ministry's not too happy.'  
Privately, Hermione thought the ministry had far more conspicuous tents to be worrying about, remembering one they'd seen earlier that day which had looked more like a silk castle than a tent.  
'Ah, why shouldn't we show our colours?' said Mrs Finnigan. 'You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?' she inquired, fixing them with a beady stare.  
As Harry and Ron assured them that they were indeed supporting Ireland, Hermione looked around to try and see where the Bulgarian tents were. They set off again, Hermione still craning her neck to spot the Bulgarians.  
'Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot.' said Ron, who was wearing an expression that looked as if he'd just escaped a lion's den.  
'I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?' said Hermione.  
'Let's go and have a look,' said Harry, pointing to a large cluster of tents farther ahead, where several Bulgarian flags flowed proudly in the breeze.  
Instead of shamrocks, the Bulgarian tents were all covered by a large picture of surly looking man with thick, low black eyebrows. She watched it for a few seconds, but the image merely glared at them.  
'Krum,' said Ron. He was so quiet, Hermione almost missed it.  
'What?' she said.  
'Krum! Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!'  
Startled, Hermione said the first thing she thought of. 'He looks really grumpy.' she remarked. Multiple Krums scowled at her.  
'"_Really grumpy"?' _Ron rolled his eyes. 'Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young, too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a _genius, _you wait until tonight, you'll see.'  
Feeling slightly guilty, Hermione reminded herself again to find a program before the game. From the way Ron was talking, Krum sounded like a really good seeker.  
They finally reached the small queue for the water tap. They joined it behind a pair of men in the middle of an argument, and Hermione could see why. One elderly wizard was wearing a very flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a ministry wizard, who was brandishing a pair of trousers and on the verge of breaking down. Hermione giggled a little at their conversation.  
'Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap, you can't walk around like that, the Muggle on the gate's already getting suspicious-'  
I bought this in a Muggle shop. Muggles wear them.' Archie insisted.  
'Muggle _women _wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear _these.' _said the ministry wizard, flourishing the pinstriped trousers.  
Hermione suppressed a laugh.  
'I'm not putting them on,' said Archie stubbornly. 'I like a healthy breeze round my privates, thanks.'  
Upon hearing this, Hermione couldn't stifle her laughter any more. She broke into a fit of uncontrollable giggles and left the queue to escape attention. But every time she looked at Archie, she started laughing again. The ministry wizard was still waving the pants around as she wandered into the next field to put Archie out of her line of sight.  
'Hermione, isn't it?!'  
She looked up to see Mr Diggory waving at her. She smiled and waved just as Cedric squeezed past a large group of Japanese witches, who were wearing an odd cross between a kimono and robes.  
Mr Diggory said something to Cedric – Hermione noticed Cedric had to bend down to be at the same height as his father – then he started off between the tents. He paused for a moment. 'Tell Arthur I said hi, won't you?!' he shouted in her direction.  
Hermione nodded and watched as he quickly slipped out of view. Seeing Cedric approaching her, she gave him a quizzical look and nodded in the direction his father had vanished in.  
'Where'd he go to? Hermione asked as Cedric drew up next to her.  
'He's been asked to handle some security scares. He's had a report of someone with a miniature pet manticore.'  
Hermione grimaced. 'We don't seem to do a very good job of blending in, do we?'  
'Why? What makes you say that?' asked Cedric. 'I mean sure, there are a few things muggles might be a bit suspicious about, but I think most people have done pretty well.' He pointed to a tent with a chimney attached.  
Hermione giggled. 'You've never taken muggle studies, have you? Tents don't have chimneys. Hardly anyone here would give a muggle no reason to suspect them.'  
'Oh. Anyway, what brings you here? I thought you were camping in the other field, closer to the woods.'  
'Yes, we are. We came to the corner of these fields though to get some water, but…I…I wanted to…explore?' It came out sounding like a question and Hermione stifled a giggle as she remembered Archie.  
'Ever the Gryffindor,' said Cedric, looking slightly bemused. 'You Gryffindors seem to quite enjoy adventures.'  
'Oh, not me so much. Ron and Harry are like that though. I'm more the one that tags along and tries to stop them from killing themselves.'  
'You must be very good at magic,' said Cedric. 'You three have gotten into some very bad situations in the past, but you always seem to be fine.'  
Hermione blushed. 'Harry and Ron do nearly as much to save themselves as I do, really.'  
He shrugged. 'You're still an amazing friend to go into danger with them like that.'  
Her blush grew, but Hermione decided to accept the compliment. 'Thanks…' she said shyly. 'I'd better get going – Harry and Ron will be nearly finished at the taps by now. Better find them before they manage to discover a secret cave filled with dangerous magical objects or something.'  
Cedric laughed and Hermione felt rather pleased with herself. 'Well, I'll see you around – at Hogwarts if not here.' she said.  
'Bye!' Cedric called after her. She looked over her shoulder but couldn't see him.  
Hermione grinned as she imagined what Ginny would say to her about talking with Cedric twice today. Even if Ginny wasn't interested in Cedric, it didn't mean she wouldn't want to hear about her chance meeting with the handsome older boy.  
Hermione returned to the water taps in time to see Ron filling the final saucepan as Harry began to turn on the spot in search of her. She hurried over and took the kettle of water and then they began walking back across the field at a much slower pace as the water weighed them down. Harry was dragged away by someone Hermione vaguely recognised as last year's Gryffindor quidditch captain and she and Ron waited impatiently, shifting their pots from hand to hand in a vain effort to get comfortable. After a short stretch Harry re-joined them only for them to be pulled up by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff in their year. Hermione wondered absently if he knew Cedric. He was boasting about how good their seats at the match were, and Hermione was just about to tell him that they were sorry, but they needed to go, when Ron spoke.  
'We're in the top box,' he snapped, looking annoyed.  
Ernie quickly let them go.  
Hermione sent Ron a withering look but he didn't seem to care about how rude he'd just been. It was these moments that Hermione found Ron less than attractive.  
Harry spilt a considerate amount of water down his front as he waved a little overenthusiastically at a pretty girl Hermione recognised from Ravenclaw. Ron sniggered and missed Hermione's glare as Harry hurriedly pointed to a large group of people who looked about their age, asking if they went to Hogwarts or not.  
Ron began to answer and told Harry about Bill's Brazilian pen pal who had sent him a cursed hat. Harry laughed, but looked slightly incredulous at the thought that there were other magical schools.  
No one was happy with them when they got back.  
'You've been ages,' George grumbled.  
'Met a few people,' said Ron, setting the water down gratefully. 'You not got that fire started yet?'  
Hermione looked over at Mr Weasley. The ground around him was littered with broken matches but he looked thrilled as he clumsily tried to light another match.  
'Dad's having fun with the matches.' said Fred quietly.  
Mr Weasley's match finally lit, but he immediately dropped it in surprise. 'Oops!' he said.  
Hermione looked at the dwindling supply of matches and felt a stab of sympathy. 'Come here, Mr Weasley,' she said, kneeling and taking the box from him.  
Much to Mr Weasley's delight, she lit the match on the first try and managed to get the fire going. He insisted on lighting matches until he was able to do it himself and couldn't have looked more pleased when he finally got the hang of it.  
As they built the fire, Mr Weasley kept up a running commentary of all the ministry witches and wizards that walked past their tent. His own children mostly ignored him and played with the fire, but she and Harry listened with great interest.  
They'd just started cooking breakfast when Bill, Charlie and Percy all came sauntering over from the woods.  
'Just Apparated, Dad,' Percy announced loudly. 'Ah, excellent, lunch!'  
Ron gave Percy a filthy look when his back was turned, furious that Percy had been able to sleep in and had already had breakfast. Hermione giggled and looked at Ron furtively before moving to sit next to him.  
Halfway through their breakfast, Ludo Bagman walked up to them. As he talked, Hermione got the distinct impression that he was rather disorganized. Harry also seemed mildly incredulous when Bagman announced that there was nothing for him to do. Hermione saw a great tongue of blue flame rising up from a campsite not far from them as he said this and she saw Harry's eyes fixed on some violet sparks rising many feet into the air. Mr Weasley introduced them all and Hermione smiled politely. When Harry's name was mentioned, Bagman did a double take and searched Harry's forehead for his infamous scar. Harry ducked his head inconspicuously and raised a hand to flatten his hair to hide his scar. It looked as if he hadn't even noticed what he was doing.  
Bagman tried to coax everyone into a bit of gambling and placed a bet with Mr Weasley and Fred and George before settling down for a cup of tea. Communication difficulties with the Bulgarian and Mr Crouch were briefly mentioned before Bertha Jorkins was brought up. Hermione listened with greater interest, curious to see how Bagman was handling the case of the missing witch from his department. Much to her dismay, though not surprise, Bagman dismissed their worries and Mr Weasley's careful suggestion to have someone look for her. Barty Crouch's arrival interrupted their conversation. Hermione doubted she'd ever seen a wizard dressed so impeccably in muggle clothing. Everything about his appearance suggested order.  
Percy quickly rose before sinking into a ridiculous sort of bow. 'Mr Crouch! Would you like some tea?'  
'Oh. Yes – thank you, Weatherby.' said Crouch, looking somewhat surprised to see his assistant.  
Fred and George choked on their tea and Harry, Ginny and Ron all hid smirks. Hermione frowned at Crouch, surprised he hadn't even bothered to learn Percy's last name.  
Crouch conversed briefly with them before Bagman began referring to organising some event they hadn't heard of, but would, apparently, know about soon.  
Crouch shoved his untouched tea at Percy – or 'Weatherby' Hermione remembered with some disapproval – and stood abruptly; waiting impatiently as Bagman slowly rose. They said their farewells before Disapparating.  
Fred immediately began asking questions. 'What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad? What were they talking about?'  
Mr Weasley closed the subject with an air of mystery, while Percy stiffly scolded Fred and praised Crouch for withholding the information – whatever it was.

* * *

Retiring to her tent with Ginny, they speculated for a while on what the event could be. However, when neither of them could think of anything, they fell silent for a few minutes.  
Ginny suddenly gasped. 'Oh! Hermione! You have to tell me about what you and Cedric were talking about!' she said excitedly.  
'I thought you weren't interested in him.' said Hermione, giving a secretive smile as she dodged the question just to put Ginny in suspense.  
'No, _I'm _not. But what if he likes you_?_ Do you like _him? _You absolutely have to tell me what you two were talking about.'  
'No, I…I don't like him. Not like that.' She said, watching Ginny's face fall.  
'Who do you like then? You've dropped hints this summer that you do like someone – unintentionally though. Anyway, you don't know if Cedric likes you or not.'  
Hermione knew Ginny would be horrified if she told her that she had a crush on her youngest brother so she elected to talk about her conversation with Cedric rather than discuss her feelings for Ron.  
'Let me think…we started talking because he helped me up after we all fell when we landed with the portkey. He mentioned that he knew who I was because of all the rumours circulating Harry and we talked about that for a minute or two…then he started talking about quidditch, but since I know nothing about it, I switched the topic to study. Harry's study,' she added when she saw Ginny's disbelieving look. 'How I thought I'd end up doing all his homework in OWL year because of his quidditch practice…then I told him Harry wouldn't go to McGonagall for help because he's too scared.'  
Ginny laughed. 'Oooh, yes. I can't imagine Harry being brave enough to face McGonagall. Is that all you talked about?'  
'Yes, but I actually saw him later when Ron and Harry were collecting water.' Hermione quickly explained about Archie. 'So I told him I was exploring, and mentioned how I was always going along with Harry and Ron's latest brilliant new scheme to get into trouble. He complimented my magic abilities, and that was it.'  
Ginny seemed disappointed. 'Was that really all you two talked about?'  
'Yes,' Hermione nodded. 'I know that he doesn't like me.'  
Ginny frowned and sighed. 'No, I don't think so either. He sounds really nice though.'  
'He is,' said Hermione fervently. 'I hope we become friends.'  
Ginny smiled and nodded, then cocked her head to listen to the sounds outside. 'I think we'd better get going…sounds like the boys are moving around outside.'  
Donning their gloves and scarves, they went outside to make their way to the quidditch cup final. But despite all the buzz and excitement, Hermione's thoughts kept wondering back to Cedric.

* * *

**A/N: Okay. So to be honest, I have very little idea where this story is going. Be warned that updates will be totally irregular.  
This chapter is a bit dull, sorry. I thought this was a good place to start a Cedmione, when Cedric was first properly introduced. Plus there were a couple of places where I could slot in a conversation with them while sticking to canon. Unfortunately it was a bit dull because of all the bits that were in the book. I had to squeeze the parts I wrote around what Rowling did and I feel like Hermione became more and more emotionless as I tried to skim stuff in the book. My writing got a bit clumsy at the end too, but I couldn't avoid it without making nearly this whole chapter stuff pulled out of **_**Goblet of Fire**_**. I'll put more of my own writing in the next chapter.**  
**Anyway, if anyone has any suggestions as to what they'd like to happen plot-wise (apart from obvious stuff like they fall in love) please, please, **_**please **_**do tell me. I'm open to pretty much anything. If I use anyone's ideas, I will **_**absolutely, definitely **_**give them credit.  
Also, this story might be a bit slow. Not that I really know yet either, but I don't want them to be like *BAM* let's have a go at kissing each other because you're cute then we'll suddenly fall in love **_**after**_** we kiss. I want it to be plausible. Hence the reason Hermione currently has a crush on Ron. Don't worry, that will be fixed at the Yule Ball or sooner.**_**  
**_**Also, Ginny's birthday is in August or something? Not anymore. I changed it for the convenience of this chapter. Her birthday's early September now. Which makes her nearly a whole year older, but you'll have to cope. She's still in the same year level, so (I hope) it's okay.  
Anyway, I have school off tomorrow and it's predicted to hail: I'll probably spend my day at home and will be able to write some stuff (I live in Australia so it's the middle of the school year and it's winter). However, this doesn't guarantee an update. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I said in the first chapter Cedric was in his sixth year. That was a mistake, I meant to say seventh. He is in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts.**

* * *

It was the sound of screaming which woke him. Horrified screams, wails of terror from children and adults sobbing hysterically as what sounded like hundreds of people stumbled past his tent.  
Cedric sat straight up, fighting his blankets as they attempted to tangle him. He fumbled for his wand, straining to see anything in the perfect darkness of the tent.  
'Dad?' He called. 'Are you alright? What's happening?'  
His stomach lurched when there was no reply.  
His fingers finally located his wand and he snatched it up as he pushed the covers off and placed his feet slowly and soundlessly on the floor. He had taken seven silent steps towards the tent door when the flap burst open to admit a single figure, briefly silhouetted by the faint moonlight. The door closed and the small space was plunged into darkness again.  
His father's voice came from the entrance to the tent. '_Lumos.' _The tent was suddenly bathed in the light emitted from his Dad's wand.  
'Cedric!' He cried. 'Get into the woods. Go now. Go!'  
'Why? What's going on out there? They sound terrified-'  
'It's not good. Muggle torture. We think it's You-Know-Who's old supporters. Get into the woods, you'll be safe there. I'm teaming up with a few ministry wizards. Now go! Get your wand!'  
Wand in hand, Cedric nodded in acknowledgement and made to brush past his Dad towards the tent door. He paused as he reached the entrance.  
'Dad…I'll do this for you, but please…just – just…'  
His Dad enveloped him in a quick hug. 'I don't want you to risk your life any more than you want to lose me. I won't do anything stupid, as long as you don't either.'  
Cedric nodded again and ducked out of the tent into the chaos. His father stepped out behind him and headed in a line parallel to the woods. Cedric turned and gazed at what must be his father's destination: A group of people hung upside down in the distance, presumably the muggles. There were violent bangs and fires burning in the area and as he watched a flurry of colourful spells lit up the night as what could only be the ministry tried to apprehend the perpetrators. They must have disapparated because the curses stopped abruptly and the muggles fell sharply before being suspended and slowly lowered until they were out of sight below the tentline. He cast a concerned glance in the direction of the muggles and turned towards the woods. There were hardly any people passing by his tent now: either the panic was over or most people had evacuated. Cedric paused for a few seconds, debating whether to stay or go since the muggles had been let go, before he strode decidedly towards the forest. His Dad had asked him to go there; probably expected to find him there.  
The field showed all the sign of people fleeing hurriedly. Some spots were empty, the previous occupants having hastily packed and gone, but an odd assortment of objects had been left behind: cauldrons, omnioculars and various books amongst other things. Bulgarian and Irish souvenirs littered the paths everywhere, trampled into the ground. Remaining tents were lopsided, as if people had run into them in their hurry and caused them to partially fall over.  
He gripped his wand tighter and continued cautiously through the meadow. The eerie silence, broken by the occasional sound of thudding feet or _pop _of disapparation as the last people fled, had him on edge. He observed his surrounding warily and spun around in alarm whenever he heard a noise. He nervously realised that his breathing was heavier than usual. He snarled and shook his head.  
_I'm not a coward, _he lied to himself. _It didn't mean anything when the hat refused to place me in Gryffindor when I asked. I'm as good as any of them.  
_He didn't believe it, but the thought made him recollect himself and he surged on at a greater pace. He hadn't noticed how much he'd slowed down as he became more skittish at the empty field.  
After several minutes, he was poised at the treeline which marked the beginning of the forest. He swung around to look behind him once more and seeing nothing, felt relieved as he began to step into the cover of the foliage.  
Then the field was bathed in green light. He raised his wand, ready to attack straight away, looking for the source of the unearthly radiance which illuminated the fallen tents and empty campsite.  
He looked up and his heart began to race.  
A picture he had only ever had described to him or had seen in photos was raised in the air, branded against the night sky in a ghastly image of horror. The grinning skull hovered above the trees somewhere in the woods, a snake curling out of its mouth in place of a tongue.  
The screams started again in their thousands, muffled by the trees this time. The sound of footsteps came, closer and closer as people began to flee what they believed to be a sanctuary, now far more terrified than before they had entered the forest.  
His mouth was dry. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, but he stood his ground.  
The Dark Mark.  
He desperately hoped that it had only been cast there by one of the muggle torturers for no reason other than to instil fear in the witches and wizards who had come for the Quidditch Cup.  
But everyone knew what the Dark Mark had meant, thirteen years ago. Everyone had dreaded coming home, lest they find the grotesque symbol above their house, lest it be their family that had been murdered this time.  
He had been too young back then to know of the mark, let alone what it symbolized. But now the sight of the mark was causing adrenaline to pump through him, he felt strangely exhilarated and fearful at the same time, more alert than usual.  
People were starting to trickle out from between the trees, which quickly became a flood. Cedric panicked as he was buffeted from side to side, unable to see anything; he pushed people away from him, chest heaving. He was unwilling to raise his wand against anyone and was forced to physically fight his way out of the crowd instead. He gasped in pain as he was accidentally knocked into the ground and he lay there, winded, praying no one would step on him.  
He struggled to breathe, trying to suck in huge amounts of air, but only a miniscule amount reached his lungs. His terror reached paramount. _I can't breathe…I can't breathe. _He thought to himself. _I'm going to die, I can't breathe.  
_A small part of him knew that his panic was only making it worse, but he couldn't stop, couldn't calm down now. He was light-headed, the earth began to spin…the bellows of the people racing away from the forests were oddly muted, though he could see people rushing past his head. His last impression was of two children staring at him as their parents pulled them along. Then oblivion.

* * *

The first thing he became aware of was the pain. A constant and sharp ache on his chest made him groan and instinctively roll onto his back as he struggled to open his eyes. The world around him was silent. His eyes finally snapped open and he blinked to clear his vision and the stars swam before they came into focus. He struggled to his feet and was relieved that his grip on his wand hadn't slackened enough for him to drop it while he was unconscious. He hissed in pain as he tried to straighten up and bent over instead, clutching his chest.  
He observed his surroundings warily before trying to stand straight again. A modicum of calm seemed to have been restored to the field. He could vaguely see dark outlines moving in and out of tents as well as many more shifting nervously in the trees, fidgeting as they whispered to each other. The Dark Mark was gone.  
A bolt of terror lanced through him as he remembered the mark. He had to check if his father was safe, who was no doubt also looking for him.  
The tent. He should go back to the tent, but he needed to heal himself first. Unfolding himself from his hunched position gingerly, he readjusted his grip on his wand and carefully slid his shirt over his head. He leaned on a nearby tree for support and examined the injury.  
The skin was already a bloom of mottled purples and blues. He pressed down on the area tenderly and hissed at the pain which flared briefly. A cracked rib. He rested his wand against the skin, ready to heal it, when someone yelled his name.  
'Cedric!'  
His head shot up at the sound of his name and he fumbled as his wand nearly slipped from his hand. Four figures emerged from the gloom and as the came closer, he identified them. Mr Weasley and his son Ron, and his two friends Harry and Hermione were heading in his direction. He frowned. What were they still doing out here?  
Ron winced at the sight of the bruise on his chest and Harry grimaced. Hermione looked mildly shocked by the violent discolouration. 'What happened?' She asked. 'How did you get hurt so badly?' Her eyes were fixed on the motley patch of skin.  
Mr Weasley bent slightly to check the bruise. 'I don't know how to fix this…we'll have to get you to our tent, I saw Wynona pitched near our tent, she's a great shakes with injuries…works at St. Mungo's…do you need help walking?'  
Cedric shook his head to affirm the negative. 'I can heal it; I was just about to when I heard you call my name.'  
Mr Weasley frowned. 'Are you seventeen yet? I really shouldn't be letting you…' he trailed off as Cedric tapped the broken rib with his wand. The nasty crunching sound of bones moving back into place made everyone flinch. He placed his wand-tip against the bruise and uttered the incantation in his head to perform the spell non-verbally and watched as the colour vanished almost instantly.  
'Honestly, no, I'm not seventeen yet. It's my birthday in three days though; I'll be of age then.'  
Mr Weasley frowned again, but Ron piped up. 'C'mon Dad, no one fancies walking all that way when they're able to fix it themselves.'  
'I suppose so.' he said, sighing.  
Hermione was staring at the spot where the bruise had been in fascination before she seemed to realise she was gazing at his chest. She blushed furiously as she quickly averted her eyes. Cedric smiled, knowing that she'd most likely just been curious about the spell he had used.  
His smile slid from his face as he remembered his father again. 'Have you seen my Dad?' said Cedric urgently as he pulled his shirt back on.  
'Yes, he's fine. I was working with him just then to find whoever it was that cast the Dark Mark…couldn't find anyone.' He gazed at the place where the mark had been worriedly. 'I actually want to clear a few things up with everyone – could you get these three back to their tent? I don't want to leave them without someone looking after them since this business tonight. I'll let Amos know that I've seen you and you'll be at your tent soon.'  
'Certainly. Thank you.' said Cedric politely. Mr Weasley pivoted and marched back into the forest at a hurried pace.  
He turned to his three charges. They exchanged a glance and then turned to head back to their tent.  
'We know were our tent is,' said Harry, 'it's okay; you don't need to come with us.'  
'We know where our tent is?' said Ron.  
'Yes.' said Harry immediately. Cedric saw him shoot a pleading glance at Hermione.  
'I know where it is, but Mr Weasley wants us to stay with Cedric. You two can either stay with me or get lost, as it seems I'm the only one who remembers the way.' said Hermione, giving Harry a stern look.  
Harry and Ron walked resignedly after Hermione, who had started forwards. She grabbed Cedric's arm and pulled him along.  
'She's as happy about it as we are.' Ron was whispering to Harry. 'You know what she's like.'  
Cedric pretended he hadn't heard anything but saw the truth in Ron's words. Hermione seemed irritated and was moving at a fast pace.  
They reached the field of tents, and now Cedric caught snatches of Harry's sentences. '…Probably disapparated…nobody in the bushes…'  
Cedric narrowed his eyes. 'Do you know anything about the Dark Mark?'  
They looked at each other for a second before reaching a unanimous decision. 'No.' they chorused.  
Cedric let their blatant lie rest, reluctant to intrude on their privacy. Hermione quickly changed the subject.  
'So how did you get that bruise? It looked terrible.'  
'I got knocked over in the rush out of the woods after the Dark Mark was cast and someone kicked me in the chest. It's fine now, I healed it completely.' said Cedric distractedly. He looked over his shoulder to check that Harry and Ron were there as he noticed he couldn't hear their whispered conversation with each other. They had dropped a little behind but were still close by. Cedric hoped Hermione wouldn't press him for more details; he didn't want to admit that he'd fainted. He'd spent most of his school life trying to improve his house's reputation and his fainting episode was the last thing people needed to know if he was to make them look better. He knew what everyone said about Hufflepuffs. They were stupid, they were cowards and that his house was composed of leftovers that didn't fit into the other houses. No one ever noticed anything good about Hufflepuff: they were diligent, they had more inter-house friends than anyone else, they could always be counted on for help and were generally much more honest than the other houses.  
Hermione accepted his explanation and launched another question. 'What spell did you use to heal the bruise? Is it part of the school curriculum?'  
Cedric remembered her question from their conversation after the portkey about study. He didn't think he knew anyone who thought about schoolwork or new material when they were on holidays.  
'You'll learn it in sixth year, but the incantation is _Thylma._' He told her with amusement as she silently mouthed it to herself.  
'_Thylma. _Oh, I wish I could practice it! It's such a pity we can't use magic outside of school.'  
'Yeah, plus you need someone with a bruise to practice on, Hermione. Neither Harry nor I are volunteering to fall off our brooms to get some bruises.' said Ron from behind them.  
Cedric felt uneasy and his eyes darted towards Harry of their own accord as he remembered the last time Harry had fallen off his broom: The match against each other when the Dementors had made Harry fall, causing Gryffindor to lose.  
However, Harry and Hermione laughed. Ron was gazing at Hermione and had a pleased expression on his face.  
Cedric was slightly bemused by Ron's strange expression but a reason soon dawned on him. He glanced between Ron and Hermione, recalling that Hermione had denied rumours about her and Harry, but hadn't protested about any of her alleged relationships with Ron. Considering the fact that none of the rumours had had any evidence to support them, Ron and Hermione had probably never been together but they both had a crush on each other. Cedric grinned and looked at Harry, wondering if he knew what was going on between his two best friends.  
'How much further is it, Hermione?' said Harry.  
'Not far now…look, there's the tent that belongs to that funny old wizard near us.'  
'What funny wizard?' Harry asked.  
'The one who asked if he could borrow our matches but said that they were tiny wands with red hats which were only capable of producing an igniting charm, even though we'd already given him some and told him they were a muggle invention called matches.'  
'Oh, yeah…'  
They passed the wizard's tent, which looked more like a tiny fortress complete with a miniature moat and drawbridge. Within sight of the fortress-like tent, Ron, Harry and Hermione all stopped in front of a duo of small grey canvas tents.  
'Thanks Cedric.' said Hermione.  
'Yeah, thanks.' said Ron.  
Harry nodded to Cedric and pulled the tent door open, ducking his head in. 'Charlie! Bill!' he exclaimed. He walked fully into the tent, followed by Ron, then Hermione, who smiled at him and waved goodbye.  
Cedric continued in the same direction they had been travelling towards the field he was staying in with his father, taking long strides, eager to get to the tent and see his Dad for himself. There were more people in the campsite now than there had been before: people were returning from the woods, which meant it was more likely his father would be back too.  
He reached their tent without too much difficulty and forged on through the canvas door. To his immense relief, his father was sitting at the table, looking perfectly unharmed, though very tense. When his father saw Cedric he visibly relaxed, exhaling noisily and leaning back into the chair.  
'Arthur said you were fine and that he'd just asked you to take his kids back to the tent. I'm still glad to see you unharmed for myself.'  
Mr Weasley obviously hadn't mentioned the broken rib to his Dad. Cedric decided not to mention it, not wanting his Dad to have any extra worries on top of this night.  
'I'm glad to see you too.' said Cedric in a relieved voice. He paused for several seconds. 'Who cast the Dark Mark? I'm guessing that it was a ploy to scare everyone, but…was it? Everyone's okay, aren't they?'  
'Not now. It's two in the morning and I want to get the first portkey we can out of here. I'll explain everything when we get home – it's too late now and there'll be too many people around to tell you tomorrow; for now I'm going to try and get some sleep. You should do the same.'  
His Dad snuffed out the candles that lit the tent and Cedric took this as a clear sign that they would talk no further until later that morning. He crawled resignedly into his bed, staring at the canvas ceiling, unable to sleep as he ran through the events of the night in his head.

* * *

Someone was shaking him to wake him up. He groaned and rolled over, weakly shoving his arms at the offender to beat them away. He blearily rubbed his eyes, sat up, and groaned again. He blinked. His father came into focus. He reached for his wand clumsily and knocked it to the floor instead of picking it up.  
His father picked it up for him and placed it next to his pillow. 'The portkey for Stoatshead leaves at dawn, we've got to get going. Up and at 'em!' He added, deliberately trying to be obnoxious.  
Despite his father's apparent cheerfulness, he looked tired and drained. His face was paler than usual and shadows rested under his eyes. Cedric knew he looked no better. He shoved the covers off him and half-fell out of bed. His exhaustion was making him clumsy. He hastily got dressed and shoved his things into his bag. His father dismantled the tent with a wave of his wand and they set off towards the edge of the field.  
Tents were folding in on themselves everywhere he looked as people raced to pack up. No one wanted to stay longer than they had to. Even more sites were empty than the previous night and there was a steady stream of witches and wizards heading towards the portkey location.  
The site director didn't seem to notice them as they walked past; he stared straight ahead of him with vacant eyes.  
'Memory charm gone wrong?' said Cedric.  
'That and it was a very strong charm as well. I'll have to contact the ministry and ask them to sort him out…' He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair, sighing. 'This whole thing's been a fiasco. Work'll be a nightmare for weeks. My department isn't even going to bear the worst of it.'  
Cedric grimaced in sympathy and looked further ahead in the direction they were travelling in. A small group of people with vibrantly red hair caught his eye.  
'Is that the Weasleys?' said Cedric, pointing.  
His father's eyes widened in surprise. 'Arthur! Arthur, wait a moment, will you?!'  
They swivelled around to see who was calling them and paused as they waited for Cedric and his father to catch up. They reached them quickly and his father fell in step beside Mr Weasley as they started walking again. Harry and Ron were talking with one of the older brothers, Fred and George looked like they were plotting something about Percy and another brother joined Mr Weasley and Cedric's father. The girl – Ginny? Yes, Ginny – was chatting to Hermione. He consented to walk by himself and set himself on the edge of the group.  
He soon noticed sideways glances from Ginny in particular, but also Hermione. He tried to look unaffected but he was quickly growing uncomfortable. It looked like Ginny was trying to persuade Hermione to do something and they talked in hushed voices so that no one else would hear. Hermione gestured animatedly in protest and Ginny waved her down. A mischievous look came into her eye and she ran to catch up with the twins, inquiring about what they were planning against Percy. Ginny smirked at Hermione, who stared furiously after her before taking a couple of steps so that she was walking next to Cedric instead. He gave her a quizzical look.  
She snorted. 'Ginny decided that it wasn't fair that you had to walk alone but refused to come with me. I don't know why…it's not as if you're half-troll.' She looked around at the crowds of witches and wizards in front of and behind them. 'Everyone's in an awful hurry to leave, aren't they? I suppose no one wants to stay after last night.'  
'No. You can hardly blame them. The panic when the Dark Mark was cast...I don't think anyone had been that terrified since You-Know-Who was in power.'  
'They weren't able to catch the muggle torturers, you know. They disapparated, but they're almost certain it was old Death Eaters.'  
Cedric nodded grimly. 'The ministry's going to be chaos for several weeks. This is going to take a long time to smooth over.' he stifled a yawn, his weariness beginning to get the better of him.  
'No one likes what it could mean. The fact that You-Know-Who's old supporters were confident enough to engage in muggle torture in such a public place can't be good.'  
They were both silent for some time as they thought about the implications of Hermione's statement.  
'I didn't thank you for taking us back to the tent last night, did I?' said Hermione abruptly.  
He started slightly at the shattered silence. 'I believe you did.' he said.  
'Oh. Well thank you anyway. I know you must have wanted to get back to your tent to see your father and you could have let us go when Harry said he knew the way. Besides, after you've healed bones you shouldn't move around too much.'  
'It's very difficult to apply that rule to ribs: the lungs push against them every time you take a breath anyway, so you're always straining them. Also, Dad wouldn't have been back at the tent if I'd gone straight away as it was.'  
'You're being modest…but yes, that is true about the ribcage.'  
Quiet ensued between them again.  
'You're Head Boy this year, aren't you?' asked Hermione.  
'Er…yes. That's right.'  
'You were a prefect last year then, too? Did you know Percy?'  
'I did. He's…the most…_organised_ Head Boy I think this school has ever seen. He was very efficient, but a bit too strict – it made him a little unpopular with the prefects. He's very ambitious, isn't he?'  
'Fred and George won't stop teasing him about how he wants to become Minister. Personally, I think they ought to show some more respect for Percy's aspirations. Minister is a very esteemed position and he has to start somewhere in the ministry, even if it is with a man who treats his house elf abysmally and doesn't even bother to learn his assistant's name.' said Hermione, sniffing to indicate her disapproval for Percy's manager.  
'Do you want to become Minister some day? Join the ministry?'  
'I think I will join the ministry. It would be quite fascinating. I'm not sure what department I would work in though – there are so many intriguing careers.'  
Cedric furrowed his brow almost imperceptibly as he wondered how many people thought the ministry was _intriguing. _Certainly, it was never dull, but it was stressful and usually only the highly ambitious gained a decent position.  
He remembered with some surprise that Hermione was muggle-born: he'd forgotten her parents weren't magical. That was bound to change her view on the ministry; she was fascinated by the things magic could do, whereas they were commonplace to him. He'd grown up with magic; it was a part of his normal life. Hermione had only discovered she was a witch just before she went to Hogwarts.  
'The ministry…' he mused aloud. 'I wouldn't enjoy working there. I've always been interested in wandlore, though. Next year I'm going to further my study in it and a couple of years after that I'll place a request to work for Mr Ollivander. Wandlore is deeply complex and often gives no explanations for things: it would be interesting, to say the least. I don't think you could ever run out of things to learn about or experiment on when it comes to wandlore.'  
Hermione's eyes lit up. 'Wandlore would be so enjoyable. You need a very comprehensive knowledge of magic of course; it would be fascinating to learn about so many different aspects of magic at such a complex level, then you need to learn about the properties of magical creatures and how different woods work when applied in different ways. Is there a class in wandlore this year at Hogwarts?'  
Cedric stifled a laugh at her enthusiasm and settled for a grin instead. 'No, so that means I have to take a whole host of other subjects. I'm taking as many as I can do. What electives did you choose to study last year?'  
This question seemed to hit a nerve with Hermione, because she averted her eyes and talked in a suspiciously nonchalant tone. 'Oh, I did…let's see…Runes, Arithmancy, Divination – though I gave that up at Easter – Care of magical Creatures and Mugg-' she broke off mid-word.  
'Muggle Studies?' Cedric probed.  
'I, er, no. I live with muggles anyway and I wouldn't have had time to do everything if I had done it. I just…er…helped other people with their homework a lot. That's why I almost said I took the subject.'  
Cedric guessed she wasn't telling the whole truth – she wasn't a bad liar, but she certainly wasn't good either – but smiled inwardly at Hermione taking Muggle Studies, but being too embarrassed to admit it. It was actually quite funny, but he didn't want to tell her that.  
'So…I feel like we haven't talked about anything except school. What else do you like? Flying? Yorkshire pudding?' said Cedric.  
Hermione grimaced. 'Not flying, definitely not. I'm not scared of heights; I just can't trust a glorified tree branch to keep me up in the air, even though it's bewitched… it just makes me feel uneasy. But Yorkshire pudding – I like that. Erm… my cat, Crookshanks, who is completely adorable, no matter what Harry and Ron think about him… reading – mainly muggle literature – and snow. I used to go to the mountains in France or Switzerland with my family every winter and I'd play in it all day. I used to be able to throw a pretty mean snowball.' she said, smirking as she no doubt remembered snowball fights of her childhood.  
'I'll consider myself warned.' he told her.  
'No need to sound so grim.' she teased.  
'I'm just trying to remember to make sure you're always on my side in a snowball fight.' said Cedric. Hermione giggled but said nothing.  
They had nearly reached the portkey by now. A mass of witches and wizards were congregating around a few extremely stressed wizards, who were pointing in various directions to tell everyone where their portkeys were.  
Cedric and Hermione followed Mr Weasley and his father to a tall ministry witch who looked at them expectantly.  
'Well? Where to?' she said waspishly.  
'Stoatshead hill… It hasn't left already, has it?' said Mr Weasley anxiously.  
The witch plucked an old tyre from the pile of portkeys and handed it to them, crossing it off her list. 'It'll leave in one minute.' she said. She turned away and began calling for British witches and wizards to collect their portkey.  
The three older Weasley sons disapparated and the rest of them trudged over to a slightly clear space. Gathering themselves around the tyre, they all grabbed onto it seconds before a hook seemed to jerk him into the air. The world blurred around them, a canvas of swirling colours as the wind blocked out all sound. They landed with heavily and Cedric wobbled dangerously for a moment before he regained his balanced. This time, everyone except Fred and George had managed to stay on their feet.  
'It's your fault,' Fred grumbled. 'You elbowed me just before we landed.'  
'I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't kicked me in the shin.' George parried.  
Cedric looked away from the twins to see his father was saying goodbye to Mr Weasley. His father looked over at him.  
'We'd better get going, Cedric. Long walk ahead of us.'  
Cedric nodded and turned to say goodbye. They Weasleys and Harry waved at him and called out farewells, but Hermione hurried over to where he stood.  
'It was really nice to be able to talk with you. I suppose I'll see you around at Hogwarts a bit. Bye!'  
'It was good to meet you.' he said. The other Weasleys had started walking away and Hermione glanced anxiously over her shoulder and started after them, looking over her shoulder.  
'Bye!' He called after her, and waved in farewell. She grinned and waved back and then ran to catch up with the others with a mane of unruly brown hair flying out behind her.  
Cedric walked over to his father and they began moving away from the hill. They travelled ever-closer to home, leaving the horrors of the Quidditch Cup behind them.

* * *

**A/N: Arrgh. I'm not going to write in Cedric's POV very often. This was incredibly hard for me to do. I don't understand Cedric very well and diving into his head was the wrong thing to do. Hermione was harder to get right too. I needed his POV for this chapter though.  
Sorry about my excessive use of commas. I cut heaps of them out but I still think I need a comma addiction support group.  
Good news! I sorta kinda mapped out where this story is going. I had a few really clear scenes in my head, but now I've connected some of them.  
Also, thanks to my lovely reviewers. I shower you with virtual flowers. Thanks to everyone who read my story too, even if you didn't comment – I never comment on stories so I don't mind if you don't review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: There are 2.5 centimetres in an inch. I was editing when I noticed I'd put a measurement in and even though it's pretty trivial, I thought you guys might like to know how much it is in case you don't know the metric system.**

* * *

The first official day of school at Hogwarts dawned somewhat reluctantly. Even though there was still plenty of daylight, the ashen clouds ensured that no one was willing to doff their blankets before breakfast started.

However, one fourth-year Gryffindor girl refused to let the clouds affect her. She had things to do. Hermione rose at six-thirty sharp, as she always did on Hogwarts weekdays. Being careful not to wake her roommates – particularly Parvati, who did not take kindly to being woken up before she had to – she got dressed, took out the books she needed for the day then sat down on her bed and took out a quill and notebook.

This time was usually reserved for the last edit of any homework due that day, but she'd already checked her summer homework yesterday. It wouldn't hurt to check it again but strictly speaking it wasn't necessary and she had much more pressing issues at hand.

Her quill scratched over the paper quickly. The notebook now bore the title 'House Elves'. With a singularly determined look on her face, Hermione wrote down everything she knew about house elves, which, to her dismay, was very little. Feeling somewhat deflated, she resolved to check _Hogwarts: A History _and a few other books in the library which might have something. Once she knew more about house elves and how they were affiliated with the castle, she could set to work trying to help the enslaved elves within Hogwarts. She chewed the end of her quill in a mixture of anxiety and thoughtfulness: the problem was so much bigger than Hogwarts and she had no doubt that the elves here, even though they were forced to work for no pay and with no leave, had better conditions than most elves. She thought briefly of Dobby's cruel mistreatment at the Malfoy's hands and Winky begging her master not to give her clothes. To dismiss such a loyal, well-meaning creature over such an insignificant disobedience was appalling. Winky had been terrified and anyone could see that she was beyond distraught when she was dismissed. It was disgusting the way people like Mr Crouch exploited the poor animals, taking their loyalty for granted and then casting them aside when they did anything mildly wrong. Even worse was the fact that other people simply stood by and did nothing to help the elves, even laughing at her for her care on the elves behalf.

Making a mental note to stop by the library after dinner, Hermione rummaged through her trunk to pull out her copy of _Hogwarts: a History. _She settled down to read as much as she could before breakfast.

* * *

Hermione stretched impatiently, straining to grab the book just out of her reach. If she was another two centimetres taller, it would be fine. As it was, she was tall enough to brush the bottom of the spine but not able to stretch far enough to get a grip on it – only push it back farther.

She glared at it murderously. Giving up on getting it down manually, she set her schoolbag down and began searching it for her wand. Foolishly, she'd shoved it into her bag after her last lesson rather than her pocket and it was now lost amongst various books, quills and pieces of parchment. When her search yielded no results she started slamming texts haphazardly onto the table, furiously emptying her bag in her quest for the elusive wand. When her bag was half-empty and she still hadn't found the thing, she started throwing things. A crumpled piece of parchment and a broken quill were thrown unceremoniously onto the other side of the table. She grabbed an empty inkwell and threw it to her side. Her throw had a surprising amount of force behind it. It flew through the air, travelling on a virtually straight trajectory before starting to sink towards the ground. It banged loudly against the stone floor and Hermione jumped, the search for her wand temporarily forgotten as she looked around guiltily to see if anyone had been looking. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted no one looking at her and walked over to the unlucky inkwell.

'I don't mean to make assumptions about what you were doing, but I'm fairly certain it didn't strictly require turning inkwells into a formidable weapon.'  
Hermione whipped around as her cheeks flared. Cedric was standing at the end of an aisle, previously hidden by the shadow the immense shelf cast. He walked past her, scooped the object up off the ground and examined it.

'That was some throw. You've cracked it.' He announced. 'If you liked flying, I think you'd be a good chaser.' he pulled his wand out of his pocket and tapped the inkwell. The crack sealed instantly and he dropped it into her hand. 'In all seriousness, what's wrong?'

'What's _wrong_,' she said irritably, 'is that house-elves are given no respect by the wizarding community and are treated like slaves. But I think what you're referring to would be the fact that I can't find my wand to get the book I want.'

'Ahh.' said Cedric, nodding to pretend he understood. Her foul mood sharpened slightly and her scowl became a little more prominent. He opened his mouth to say something but clearly thought better of it as he gave her a sidelong glance and snapped his jaw shut.  
'Would you like me to get it for you?' he said instead.

Hermione nodded shortly and named the book and pointed to it. Cedric summoned it with a flick of his wand as Hermione set the inkwell down on the table perhaps a little too forcefully and, much to her fury, saw her wand half-lying under her Charms book. She snatched it up and put it in her pocket straight away. She silently swore she was never putting it in her bag again and took a few even breaths to help calm herself. She turned to Cedric who proffered the book she'd been trying to grab and set it on the table when she didn't take it immediately.

'_Magical Creatures and the Ministry: a complete guide_? Is this to do with what you mentioned about the house elves?' He ventured. His gaze slid over some other books in her pile: _Why House-elves need us_, _Mutinies of Magical Creatures _and _Etiquette concerning house-elves. _

'Yes, well, I've been doing some research.' she said testily. 'The way house-elves have been treated in the past is an abomination. I'm going to start a group, Society of the Protection of Elvish Welfare, or S.P.E.W.. We'll focus on improving the rights of house-elves. Why no one has done anything about their appallingly large lack of rights before, I have no idea.' she sniffed, while quietly cursing herself for using such formal language. She may be the only one to care for the house-elves, but she wasn't pompous or self-righteous.

Cedric frowned. 'Hermione…,' he began cautiously, 'I don't know how much you know about house-elves, but believe me when I say that they're happy with what they have. I know they could have a few more rights, but they enjoy working. It is, quite literally, their instinct.'  
'Instinct! No, they just don't know any better! They would if they'd ever been paid or given holidays!' said Hermione, her voice rising as her anger returned. She crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly.

'No, really,' said Cedric earnestly. 'You've only got books on our interaction with house-elves. You need something purely about the creatures themselves to get a real understanding of their nature.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously but felt a twinge of doubt concerning her beliefs. She tried vainly to squash the feeling but when it refused to go away, she conceded that she would deign to borrow a book on house-elves and house-elves alone. Although, she reminded herself, it would be written by witches or wizards, who were likely to conceal the truth in case it was decided that house-elf slavery was cruel.

'Also, the acronym S.P.E.W. might need some reconsideration.'

'Why? What's wrong with it?' Hermione demanded.

Cedric raised an eyebrow, making Hermione instantly jealous. She'd always wanted to be able to do that. It did no favours for her temper and she glowered at him.

'Spew. People will call it spew.' said Cedric.

Hermione, who had been on the verge of gathering her books and walking out in a dignified and disdainful silence, froze as she realised the ridicule she had nearly unknowingly brought upon her society.

'I would suggest the Society of the Protection of Elfish Rights instead. S.P.E.R. would probably be a safer choice.'

Hermione realised he was holding back a smile. She looked up at him sullenly. 'Fine. Thank you.' she said.

She sat herself down at the table and opened one of her books in a clear dismissal but much to her annoyance, Cedric sat down across from her. He opened his own book and took out some parchment which made it clear he was doing homework, but considering her current mood, Hermione wished he would go to another table. To her frustration, he stayed where he was. Hermione refused to be the one to move.  
After about an hour Cedric rolled up his parchment and began packing to leave. His movements caught Hermione's attention, who looked up in mild surprise. Her anger towards him had abated by now and she was almost disappointed he was leaving. However, Cedric simply leant back in his chair in a more relaxed pose.

'Are you entering the Triwizard Tournament?' Hermione asked. In all honesty, she'd been vastly curious as to what Cedric would do since the Feast the night before when the tournament had been announced.

Cedric nodded slowly. 'Yes. I think I will.'

Hermione pursed her lips. 'I don't think this tournament is a good idea. I know they've added new safety measures, but the mention of a _death toll _isn't exactly comforting. I think that they shouldn't be trying to reinstate something so dangerous and pose it as friendly competition. It's hardly going to be friendly. Personally, I don't think it's safe to enter.'

Cedric eyed her oddly. 'Yes, but only seventeen year olds are allowed to enter. Most of the candidates will be year sevens and only a few year sixes, so it's very advanced magic that they're capable of doing. Besides, with such a bad history, why would they start the tournament again if they weren't completely sure it wouldn't be safe?'

'I suppose,' Said Hermione, though she made it clear through her tone that she didn't believe this at all. She took the box of badges next to her and started charming them various different colours.

'Oh, come on.' said Cedric lightly. 'It's a good thing. Isn't the aim of the thing to get us to make foreign friends? Although,' he added as an afterthought,

'Perhaps a competition isn't the best way to get us to become friends with each other.'

'I'd imagine it would actually work very well.' said Hermione. 'There's a long period between tasks and the tournament goes most of the school year, so there's a lot of time when there wouldn't be much of competitive atmosphere. Then there's the Yule Ball of course.' She held back a soft curse when she didn't pay enough attention to her aim and accidentally turned her fingernail pink. She changed her nail back and hit the badge with the spell instead.

'The Yule Ball?'

'Yes, I was reading about the tournament a bit at lunchtime. It's held on Yuletide – that's Christmas – and it's…well…it's a ball, on Yuletide. It used to be wildly popular. All the officials and teachers would attend as well as many of the students. It used to be all waltzes and such, but I imagine we'll have a few modern songs. Although they'll probably keep the tradition of champions and their partners dancing first, which will most likely be to a waltz.'

'You really think they'll keep it? It sounds a bit…old-fashioned.'

'Oh, yes,' Hermione nodded. 'Like I said, it was very popular, as everyone got to dance with and talk to people from the other schools. Did I say they'll probably have modern songs? I think I did.' She turned the badge she was holding a vivid green, stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, and then changed it to a dusky purple. 'I don't think they'll tell us about the ball for a while, though.'

'Mm, probably. They'd want Durmstrang and Beauxbatons here first and then they'll want to wait for the competition to die down a bit.' He picked up a golden-brown badge and started fidgeting with it.

Hermione peered into her box. She'd almost finished colouring the badges and after that she'd have to emboss them with S.P.E.R.. That would take longer than performing the colour-changing charm. 'Do you know when the other schools are coming? Dumbledore didn't say last night, but I thought you might know since you're head boy.' said Hermione, changing the last few badges to different shades of blue.

'No, but Dumbledore'll let everyone know soon. It can't be long before they're due – like you said, the tournament takes a long time, so it's going to have to be pretty soon in order for them to get the whole thing done in a school year.' He had pulled out his wand and was idly drawing colours on the badge. It was now a myriad of reds and yellows with a pearlescent stripe running jaggedly across the middle. As she watched, he traced an onyx border onto it.

She let him continue playing with the badge and started transfiguring the letters S.P.E.R. onto the pile in front of her. 'So – ' she broke off, slightly unwilling to breach the subject. In the end her curiosity won over. 'So why do you want to enter?' She inquired brazenly. She held her breath, hoping she hadn't been rude.

Cedric rolled the badge between his fingers, his expression brooding. He poked the pin with his finger and it split to form two little legs. He set it down on the table and watched it as it teetered for a moment before toppling, its spindly limbs unable to support the rest of the heavy badge. He waved his wand over it and the legs melded together. When he turned it over and put it back in the pile, it was the golden-brown colour she'd originally charmed it to. He picked up his bag and swept the last of his belongings into it. 'Sorry, but I'm afraid I have to get going.' He said distantly. 'I think Werman's scheduled to patrol tonight and he never goes unless someone checks that he does.' He rose from his chair and turned to leave.

Hermione felt guilt sweep through her as she realised she should have left the question. It could be, after all, potentially very personal. 'Wait! I'm sorry. I didn't mean…I didn't mean to…I don't know. I just didn't mean to ask something you weren't prepared to answer. I understand – it's not as if we've known each other very long.'

Cedric's posture relaxed fractionally and Hermione quietly exhaled in relief. Then she frowned at herself. She'd come to consider Cedric a friend very quickly if she was this worried about his reaction to her apology already. She pushed her thoughts aside as Cedric addressed her again, in a considerably more amiable tone. 'That's okay. But I really do have to go. I'm not lying about Werman, he's shocking.'

Hermione gave a short laugh. 'You'd better go make sure he stays in line then. Good luck – it sounds as if you'll need it.'

He smiled at her and nodded. 'You're right, I probably will. Thanks. See you around.'

With that, he strode quickly out of the library. Despite his acceptance of her apology, Hermione wasn't quite sure if she was actually forgiven or if he was just saying it. If it was Harry and Ron, she knew they'd mean it, but Cedric seemed infinitely more complex and not quite as…blunt? Forward? Sighing, Hermione refocused on the badges in front of her and began working on them again. Sitting and analysing her conversation with Cedric wasn't going to help any house-elves.

* * *

It was with much joy on Friday of next week that the fourth year potions class packed up half an hour early to see the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Hermione, while vaguely disappointed they hadn't had time to finish their potions, was very glad that Professor Snape hadn't been able to carry out his threat of poisoning one of them. Harry and Ron in particular seemed extraordinarily happy.

'Did you see his face when we left?' said Harry, beaming.

'Yeah, but he always looks like that…it's like his face is stuck.' Ron was grinning too.

'The wind probably changed at the wrong moment and now he's going to look like that forever.' said Hermione with a smile. Harry laughed.

Ron looked at them confusedly. 'What? What's the wind got to do with anything?'

'It's just something muggles tell their children to stop them pulling faces. They say if the wind changes, you'll look like that for the rest of your life.' Hermione told him.

'Nah, I reckon Snape's just a miserable bat. It comes to him naturally.' replied Harry. Harry and Ron laughed and then all three of them sprinted towards a staircase to get to it before it finished moving away.

Hurriedly depositing their bags in their rooms and donning their cloaks, they rushed out towards the Entrance Hall. Hermione couldn't stop a smile sliding across her face. In addition to the excitement of the arrivals of the other schools, for some reason, the novelty of running in a cloak never wore off. It billowed out behind her as she hurtled down the stairs, racing Harry and Ron; then flared dramatically as she triumphantly jumped the last three steps, behind Ron but ahead of Harry. She smiled at Harry mischievously and pivoted sharply to face him, enjoying the way her cloak swirled around her.

Ron punched the air jubilantly. 'Ha! I win!' He gloated teasingly, grinning broadly.

'What? We were racing?' said Harry, frowning.

Ron smirked and Hermione giggled and tugged on their sleeves. 'Come on, Professor McGonagall won't be happy with us if we're late.' she told them.

'I don't think it's possible for us to be late, with all that running we just did,' said Harry. He grimaced and clutched his chest as if he had a stitch. 'We'll probably be the first ones there.'

They were still panting slightly as they rounded the corner to the entrance hall to find Professor McGonagall already instructing Gryffindors on where to stand: they were some of the last to arrive, sharply contradicting Harry's predictions. Hermione shivered and wrapped her cloak more tightly around her as they crossed the moonlit grounds. They came to a halt on the sloping lawns with an excellent view of a good portion of the grounds. Harry, Ron and Hermione – as fourth years – stood in the fourth row from the front and Hermione ended up on the end of the row.

Hermione jumped as she heard someone greet her from her other side, the one where no one was standing. She turned around to see Cedric stationed to the side and a little behind her.

'What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the seventh years?' She said waspishly, miffed that he'd managed to sneak up on her for the second time in as many weeks. She secretly prided herself on her excellent hearing, so being snuck up on – while she wasn't reading, at any rate – wasn't something she was used to.

He seemed oblivious to her unfriendly tone. 'They're getting prefects to supervise different areas. Sprout made it clear to the Hufflepuffs that she doesn't want anyone tarnishing our reputation in front of the other schools, particularly Beauxbatons. The teachers haven't noticed it, but they've made it pretty clear to me and the head girl that they're very competitive, especially with Beauxbatons.'

'Yes, well, Beauxbatons is somewhere in the South of France, so I'd imagine they would be rather prickly towards them. Wizarding ties with South France have been negligible since the hundred year war in a skirmish near Nice. The French used a chimera, although they only did it in retaliation to the English using manticores... it was an absolute massacre and now neither side will accept any responsibility.'

'Sounds very much like what we would do. Hold a grudge for this many years and refuse to apologize.'

'In wizarding history, the two nations have rarely cooperated. You can't expect that to be forgotten overnight.' said Hermione.

They both turned in alarm as a voice yelled out '_There!' _The shout came from near the back and Hermione spied an arm pointing over the trees and slid her gaze across the forest eyes widened as she saw a huge black shape silhouetted against the moon, flying rapidly towards Hogwarts.

'What is it?' Hermione asked Harry. He shook his head mutely. She peered at the growing shape, trying to discern what it was.

The silhouette grew constantly nearer, and details slowly made themselves visible. At first it became apparent that the shape – a carriage – was being pulled by giant winged creatures; they looked something like Pegasus'. Hermione sub-consciously took a small step back at the sight of them. Horses had always seemed unnatural to her: surreal creatures, always looming over her. They were just so loud and generally intimidating. Large horses couldn't possibly be better than normal ones.

The horses landed on the lawn and the carriage bumped as it hit the ground, losing speed quickly. It was enormous, and a rather unappealing powder-blue colour – or so Hermione thought. She glimpsed an emblem on the door before it flew open, and a boy in powder-blue silk robes jumped out and unfolded a set of stairs before standing promptly to attention, earning a few giggles from the Hogwarts students.

Then, the largest woman Hermione had ever seen in her life exited the carriage. She was easily comparable to Hagrid, with feet the size of some of the larger books in the library and a height that required her to stoop considerably to avoid knocking her head in the doorway. The students filing out behind her all looked to be of age, but the tallest of them were only half her height.

Dumbledore strode forwards to greet her, but Hermione missed what he was saying as Cedric started talking to her again.

'They don't seem to like the look of Hogwarts.'

Hermione glanced at the Beauxbatons students, who were all looking up at the imposing castle with apprehensive looks on their faces. 'It _is _a big castle. They can be rather intimidating, you know.'

They paused for a moment. The giant woman was, for some absurd reason, talking about single-malt whiskey.

'They look like they're freezing. Do you suppose they brought cloaks? It doesn't look as if it would be a part of their uniform – silk uniform! Not very practical.' She commented.

'They've probably got cloaks, but nothing anywhere near good enough for winter in Scotland. Wow, they're really well behaved, this Beauxbatons lot…the teachers won't be very happy about that.'

The students were extraordinarily well-behaved. Hermione watched incredulously as the students walked silently in single file towards the castle, headed by the enormous woman. Not one person dropped back to talk to their friend or even whispered a word. If the students at Hogwarts behaved that well, Hermione would suspect someone had used an unforgiveable curse on the entire student population.

'How do you think Durmstrang will get here? Not a carriage, I bet.' said Cedric.

'I'm not sure…I think you're right though, they probably won't come in a carriage. In the past, schools have always gone out of their way to find different methods of transportation to get to the schools, always trying to outdo each other. It's really quite ridiculous; it's not as if it's part of the tournament.'

Cedric smirked. 'No, but it sounds exactly like what would happen. Try and prove that you're better because you have a more impressive way of getting to there than the other school does. I can see why this tournament is so prestigious.'

Hermione laughed. 'The prestige is _why _they do that, though. I don't know how to explain it. I think-'

'The lake! Look at the lake!' Someone, a Gryffindor – Lee Jordan – was yelling.

The lake was no longer perfectly still. Part of it had become a seething, boiling mass of water, bubbling loudly, and the students looked on with wide eyes as a long pole rose gently from the water. It rose higher and two other, smaller poles began to appear above the surface as well. It was only once she saw the poles running perpendicular to the ones she had first seen that she realised what it was.

'It's a mast!' Harry told them excitedly.

Indeed it was. It was clear that the elongated pole was the mast and now the massive decks were coming into view, rising eerily slowly and calmly from the frothing lake. The students stood silently and wide eyed as the ship gradually came to rest on the surface and glided silently towards the bank. The ghostly ship anchored; then they heard the thud of a plank being thrown onto the bank.

The students filing off the ship were large and bulkily built. Hermione grimaced. 'Look at their size!' she said to Cedric in astonishment. He nodded fervently.  
As they came closer, Cedric bent down and whispered to her, 'I think it might be furs. At least _they're _prepared for winter in Hogwarts.'

Hermione squinted. Yes, they were dressed in furs, thick layers of them. 'A bit _too _prepared, I think. Gosh, they must be hot! It's really not _that_ cold out tonight…'

Cedric didn't reply and she looked up to see his gaze fixated on one of the students. His eyes were wide.

'What is it?' She asked, craning her neck to try and see what he was looking at.

He glanced at her in surprise, as if only just realising she was there. 'It's Krum! Viktor Krum!' He must still be a student!'

Viktor Krum was one of two names she'd made an effort to remember at the Quidditch Cup, so her eyes lit up, pleased that she was able to recognise the name – if not the face, she thought frustratedly, as she realised she couldn't identify him.

Cedric must have noticed her fruitless searching because he pointed and leant closer to her so that she could tell exactly who he was pointing at. She finally spotted Krum.

'Oh! I suppose he's entering the tournament. Do you think he'll be chosen?'

Cedric moved back to where he had been and Hermione shivered at the sudden loss of warmth. 'It wouldn't surprise me if he is.' His reply was distant and muted; Hermione wondered what he was thinking about. Perhaps gauging Krum as potential competition, but that didn't really seem like Cedric. She blinked; surprised that she was making such confident assumptions about Cedric when they hadn't really got to know each other yet.

She heard Harry's voice and pulled herself out of her reverie. 'Hermione, c'mon!' Ron said to her. 'Everyone's starting to go back to the castle and I don't want to miss out on any of the good food.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows and shook her head resignedly at Ron's train of thought. Trust him to be thinking of food when the entire rest of the school was buzzing about the tournament.

She glanced at Cedric. 'Well, I'll see you soon! Good luck with the goblet!'

He said something in farewell which she didn't quite catch and she turned around to walk with Harry and Ron back up the hill to the castle. Ron grinned at her from around Harry's back, clearly thrilled to have seen Krum, and she couldn't help but return the smile.

'Guess we're going to find out tomorrow who the champions are, right?' Harry asked, although she suspected he knew question was rather pointless.  
She snuck in between the two of them and in a fit of frivolity and mischievousness which seemed to have sprung from nowhere and linked arms with both of them, but her mood immediately sunk.

'That's right. Tomorrow night. Halloween.'

Her out-of-character reply puzzled Harry and Ron, but they merely looked at each other and shrugged. However, Hermione's playful mood had dissipated at the same time she had formulated the answer, because even though she'd wished Cedric good luck, she couldn't help but worry about the danger he would be facing if he was picked – and she had a bad feeling that it could quite possibly be him.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I am extraordinarily guilty. I apologize. Profusely. Excessively. Vehemently. I have been neglecting my story.  
Good news: Summer holidays soon! A month from now and I'll be free till February! (Yes, that means updates!)  
Bad news: Exams stand between me and freedom. Exams mean study. Exams mean less time writing.  
That's all. I send an abundance of love to my reviewers.**


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